


Heaven Can't Wait

by ProfoundlyInLove



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Emergency Services, Castiel and Mental Health Issues, Character Death, EMT Dean, Mild Language, Multi, Paramedic Dean Winchester, Paramedic Gabriel, Self Loathing, Student Castiel, Student Sam Winchester, Unplanned Pregnancy, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:59:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfoundlyInLove/pseuds/ProfoundlyInLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started when Dean Winchester found the missing pieces of his life on Thanksgiving night.</p><p>But it all ended exactly one year later with a simple silver ring on a chain hanging around his neck, with the words “I need you”, engraved on the inside. But Dean will never give up on who brought him happiness, Castiel James Novak.</p><p>This is how I became We.</p><p>This is how Wishes Shall Speak</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Designated Driver

**Author's Note:**

> A/N This story contains adult themes, graphic material, pervasive language, alcoholism, self loathing, mental health problems, mild references, and character death. Reader discretion is advised.

“Good morning, Castiel. Please sit up, it’s time for your meds.” Paul, one of the graveyard shift techs said. He tended to hand out meds in the morning before day shift arrive at seven o’clock currently...read six-forty. Breakfast started at seven fifteen, which meant he had to seriously consider leaving his bed. Well, the hospital’s bed, but that’s too technical.

Castiel sat up obediently, throwing the small pile of pills down his throat, quickly swallowed. The fact that he could swallow six pills at once was kind of impressive; then again he’s had sixteen months to perfect this act.

“Thank you, Castiel.” Paul said as he flashed his penlight into Castiel’s mouth to assure had all been swallowed. He would never risk that; today of all days.

Will, Castiel’s equally or more so tired roommate, groaned as the tech exited their room. They always caused a ruckus in the morning, waking Will ...despite his best attempts.

“Morning, Will,” Castiel said quietly. Intense realization and anxiety was settling down deep in his body; as if it was the blood being pumped through his body in a steady rhythm.

“Hey, Cas. Today’s the day, huh? I’m going to have to train a new asshole of a roommate,” Will snorted with a sleep glazed grin he knew, even without having to look. They’d been roommates ever since Will transferred to DBT from Boy’s Hall, four long months ago. Castiel had been on Boy’s Hall for seven months before transferring to DBT. Nine hard months later, his count was coming to an end.

**  
  
  
**

Castiel James Novak was finally being discharged.

Castiel was admitted to Willow Springs Residential Treatment Facility in Reno, Nevada in the March of 2012. He was sent there after his ninth suicide attempt, which landed him in an acute psychiatric hospital. They had decided Castiel was too much of a danger to himself for him to be released on his own accord. So after an unusually long stay of four weeks, Castiel travelled eleven hours to Reno. At fifteen years old, all his legal rights were signed away until they felt he was safe-- or aged out.

Today, June fourth, was Castiel’s eighteenth birthday. He had been declared as someone who was safe with himself and or others. After sixteen grueling months, he was ready to step back out into the real world and let the waves roll on.

Castiel rolled his neck side to side, the pops bringing him comfort both physically and mentally. He went down his body, casually popping each joint he could maneuver properly before allowing himself to leave the comforts of his all too uncomfortable bed. The cool air was a shock to his system.

“Morning, Cas. Sleep well?” Someone asked from the always-open doorway. The voice was one he recognized; Molly. She was a mental health tech, or what they called coaches; someone who directs the residents and helps them through their own crises.

“Why, thank you. How are you?” Castiel asked pleasantly. He scratched the side of his face, hyper aware of the stubble. It wasn’t that he was attracted to Molly, it was only that he was only allowed to shave once a week, so it most definitely adds up.

“I’m good thanks. Twenty until breakfast, boys.” She smiled, waving before she moved on to the next doorway. Her hair swung back and forth, easily down to the start of her thighs, past the hem of her signature sweaters.

Will groaned loudly into his pillow as Castiel entered their curtain-doored bathroom to shower before breakfast. He stripped himself of his clothes and pressed the small metal button that turn on the water. For the first few moments it was unbearably cold before heating up to a comfortable scalding. He felt the invisible grime that collected on his body wash away down the drain. Their shower was the handicap model, which meant it always managed to flood the whole floor in a matter of minutes.

After he felt enough time had past, he stopped pressing the button that called the water down. Within moments the water stopped. He got dressed quickly, a wave of anxiety quivered through him. What if this doesn’t work? What if I fuck up? So many ifs..., Castiel thought to himself with a frown.

The morning was going by fast, yet not fast enough. Castiel found himself counting the hours, even the minutes and seconds. For Rec Therapy, everyone was gathered into the activity room for Charades.

“I call going first!” Castiel called out with a grin. His team was fine with it seeing as he was leaving any moment. They told he had one minute to finish as many as possible. He shot through seven actions until the buzzer said it was over. In most situations he would never play such a silly game with people he was uncomfortable with. Except he was comfortable here. Safe and happy even.Moments later, Amy stood in the doorway and made eye contact with Castiel. He knew -- Time to go home.

That’s how he found himself in the admin office sitting next to his sister, Anna. They saw each other infrequently during Castiel’s stay, but were in constant contact with his five phone calls and unlimited mailing. Castiel didn't understand his current emotions, not sure whether to cry, scream, or be happy as can be.

He felt fingers wrap around his wrist gently, spreading a warm fuzzy feeling throughout him. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered as Amy put together the final papers. Things like prescriptions, appointment plans, safety plans, things that bored anyone to tears. He signed all the papers without bothering to read them, because signing them meant he was leaving.

“I’ll sign my soul away if it means going home,” He whispered to Anna, who shook her head while still reading through the paperwork.

Soon enough, Amy grinned at them, “Ready to go?” She asked as Castiel and Anna collected his bags. He could only nod, doing his best to not cry.

It felt like saying goodbye to a home away from home.

Sitting in the rental car as they pulled out, away from Willow Springs, Castiel broke down into heavy sobs that nothing could console.

**  
  
**

He'd never come back. He was going to get on a plane to Lawrence and never, ever come back. No more casual chats with friends or staff that he’d grown attached to. Not anymore of Will’s hilarious pranks; putting his mattress in the shower. Somehow he’d even miss the squabbles between people. The kind you only had with people you loved. Realization hit him like a bitter ocean wave, washing over him, cleaning away all his mistakes as if they’d never happened. Records to be sealed, and a life to be started.

“Anna! Where’s the ironing board?” Castiel shouted as he held open the closet near the kitchen where household supplies were kept.He sighed to himself and held his button up shirt to see if he could at least pass it off as tidy.

**  
  
**

Time was of the essence. He was going to meet his roommate on campus soon, and he didn’t want to make a bad impression. The pasty yellow paper he’d been given read two names and a room number along with safety deposit information. Castiel Novak & Sam Winchester. Room 319.

“Castiel, I’m telling you for your own good, lose the button up. Just wear jeans and a T-shirt. He’ll think you’re an accountant or something,” She sighed as she came out of her bedroom wrapped up in a robe with a facial mask on.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here? You’re more than welcome, you know.” She trailed off with a sad smile as she reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’ve been here all summer, Anna. I’ll be okay,” He mumbled into her hair. “I have to branch out eventually, right?” He asked in a sorrowful tone. Pulling away, he sighed. Leaving would be the hardest thing he’s done in a while. Growing into a routine with his sister, who he felt he hadn’t seen nearly enough. The whole summer they were practically attached at the hip. Meeting her friends, going out on Friday nights, watching movies until four am. Now, it was time to make the next step in his life.

College.

Castiel sat in the coffee shop they had agree to meet at, called The Grinder. Sipping at his coffee, he people watched while imagining the fantasy life of a perfect University experience. Friends, parties, love; anything could happen. Suddenly,enormous man with shaggy hair and a thousand watt smile sat down at the table with him.

“You’re Cast-ee-el, right?” He asked with a brief chuckle.

“Castiel, but yes, I am.” He confirmed, reaching his hand out across the table to shake Sam’s hand. Sam nodded furiously with a grin.

“I can’t believe I’ve got a roommate, and I’m going to college, this is great!” Sam said, all too happy. Castiel was sure they’d get along fine.

“What’s your planned major? What classes are you taking this semester? What made you come to KU?” Sam asked, his voice quick and airy, full of excitement.

Castiel ran his fingers through his hair breathlessly, a shy smile, anxiety starting to melt away. “Well I’m planning to graduate with as an English Lit. I have four classes; three core and one elective because I have a job at the University library part-time. I, uh, I came here to be with family. My sister, Anna, goes here, but she’s a junior this year.” Castiel answered smoothly, his laugh lines slightly visible.

“Sister huh? That’s great. Uh, I’m Pre-Law, five classes a week, but no job. Living off some funds I’ve got and all the loans I can get.” Sam snorted honestly. His smile was warm and made him feel at ease as if they’d been friends for a decade.

“Pre-Law huh? What law do you want to go into?” Castiel asked, intrigued.

“Criminal law, definitely. Get the bad guys, you know?” Cas nodded, easily understanding the desire to put away the ones who do everyone wrong and cause sadness and pain.

“Yes. Yes I do. I think we’ll get along fine.”

Four Years Later

**  
  
**

The dorm room was the same pale blue that it’d always been, but today the color was almost haunting as he stared up at it for ages instead of getting up and dressed for his class in forty minutes. Castiel could see the ripped corners of posters that had been ripped off before the previous summer break. Now the two of them were in their last year of University. It was intimidating to think that he’d be part of the adult world and culture in only seven months. With Thanksgiving break looming over head, his anxiety was growing.

“Cas, man, get up!” Sam encouraged as he came back into the room with his toiletries as he’d returned from the communal shower. He had a white towel wrapped around his waist and a small bin in his left hand. Sam shook out his hair like a dog before putting his toiletries away on his side of the moderately sized room.

Castiel ignored his words, losing himself in his thoughts as he stared up at the walls of his room. Time escaped him, until his ten minute warning alarm started ringing, much the annoyance of his studying roommate. Castiel usually attempted to not interrupt his studying, since Pre-Law courses were infinitely more difficult than English Lit. Unfortunately for Sam, today wasn’t one of those days.

“Do you want some donuts after my lecture?” Castiel offered as he threw the blankets off his body.

“Only if its from Angel Food.” Sam said quickly. Angel Food had the best baked goods from anywhere in the area, possibly the country, but it’s hard for Castiel to tell. He'd done the Krispy Kreme challenge with these donuts, and he couldn’t touch a donut for two months without feeling ill. Sam had had the pleasure of following Castiel in a friend's car, making fun of him the whole four miles, filming his pain in the process.

“Of course.” Castiel snorted.

“Get those ones that taste like maple syrup!” Sam chirped, returning back to his studies. Castiel nodded and proceeded to put on sweatpants and a T-shirt to go to his lecture. Normally, he’d at least wear jeans but today sleep clung to him like a wet blanket. He wondered if he could pull off sleeping. Probably not, considering his snores sound like he's trying to start a lawn mower in his sleep.

His lecture turned out to be unimaginably dull, even for him. Castiel typically loved discussions of sixteenth century renaissance literature, but today he couldn’t shake himself from the thick need for sleep, and the irritating scratch in the back of his throat .He'd need to buy cough drops on his way back to his dorm. At least the sweet smell of donuts perked his mood.

The weather outside was Castiel’s favorite. A storm was most definitely on its way, and it seemed like a big one.

**  
  
**

He remembers a storm during his sophomore year that knocked out the whole dorm halls power. A good number camped out in the common room that night, scattered all over the floor. It was hard to imagine that he was graduating this May. This place was practically his home. After this he’ll be off to find a job as an English teacher. Sam still has years of school left, Castiel was nearly envious. He doesn’t have to figure out his life so soon. Twenty-two and ready to enter this crazy fucked up world.

When he returned to his dorm room, he found Sam asleep with books surrounding him. Castiel draped a blanket over him and put the books on his desk along with the maple bar he had requested. Castiel flipped through mail he had piling up while eating his jam filled donut. Mostly junk, bills, and credit cards that banks kept sending. One was a colorful card from Anna. She always insists on cards for every occasion, and Halloween was no exception. As he'd expected, the card was a glittery pumpkin. He appreciated the thought.

A snore interrupted his train of thought, making him snort before tossing his mail into a pile on his bed. Instead, he grabbed his computer and booted it up. He could hear it give a groan, protesting use in it's old age. He had bought it with one of his first few paychecks from the library. It had taken him what felt like ages to get enough. Thankfully his paycheck went up when he switched to full time in sophomore year. The workload combined with school was stressful and at times unbearable, but he has made it through each year with at least a 3.5 GPA.

Anna had been impressed with him when he would tell her about his school life. She had graduated a while back, and had moved to New York for a year, where'd she's been a partying socialite, before coming back to Lawrence. Now she's met a man she loved and had started to settle down.

As if she’d heard his train of thought, Anna texted him, jolting his phone to life.

**[From:Anna] at 14:21**

**Do you want to get a drink with me tonight?**

**[To:Anna] at 14:23**

**Sure. Where at and when?**

**[From:Anna] at 14:24**

**Seven at The Trickster? Bring Sam, God himself knows he needs a break or three.**

**[To:Anna] at 14:27**

**Sounds great, see you then.**

Castiel discarded his phone on the bed and started to attack the pile of homework he’d been putting off until his “Social Challenge” AKA put off homework until he had plans so that he's motivated. The idea of waking up in someones yard was, well… wrongfully intoxicating.

**  
  
  
**

By Castiel’s fifth shot, he was feeling something. He was unfortunately a heavy weight. Even the first time he drank it had taken forever to feel anything at all. Anna was obviously drunk, while Sam was holding his own and able to function at bare minimum. Thankfully they had cab money, because there was no way that any of them were going to be driving tonight. Suddenly, someone climbed on top of the bar with a megaphone. He was relatively short with golden whisky eyes. His hair was slicked precisely and he wore a hoodie with a leather jacket on top.

“Attention beautiful ladies, and that lean tan guy in the booth with the hot redheaded chick who should definitely give me her number, tonight I present you with a true work of art. Haaave you met--” The man was pulled of the bar by someone Castiel guessed was his friend considering how he hushed him and pulled him away from the bar yet not out of the bar top.

“On that note, I think it’s time to get out of here,” Castiel decided, sliding out of the booth carefully.

“If you take me home, you can stay at my place,” Anna grumbled as a piña colada induced slumber started to take over her.

“Of course I’m getting you home, I’d be a horrible brother if I didn’t,” He assured, helping her out of the booth slowly while Sam made his own way out on the opposite side. Anna was slumped over, barely walking on her own as they exited the bar. Her arm was slung over Castiel’s shoulders as Sam hailed a cab. He was suddenly grateful Anna’s place was no more than ten minutes away. She was a terrible lightweight, worse than Sam.

Thankfully they were able to hail a cab before Anna started to make heartfelt confessions that always made Castiel feel uncomfortable.

“Cassie, you know I am so proud of you, all that work shaped you into an amazing person.” Anna mumbled in the car seat, slumping into Castiel’s shoulder. She nuzzled her face into his neck before booze induced sleep claimed her. Castiel would be the one carrying her inside, he just knew it. He prays he won’t drop her.

Castiel found himself wound around the thoughts of the hospital, a place he hadn’t thought of in much too long. It’d been four years since his discharge, nearing five. He wonders how Will is doing. Will was set to go to rehab after his discharge, much to his own discontent. Maybe Will went to college as well, he had been interested in helping people in their situation. It was a noble idea.

“We’re here, son. Need help?” The driver grunted, motioning to both Anna and Sam. Castiel wasn’t even sure if Sam could walk. So the driver helped him maneuver the two up to the doorway where Castiel dug the spare key out of the potted plant on Anna’s deck. Dirt stuck under his fingernails when he put the key into place; thanking the cab driver profusely.

When the door was open and the trio were in the front room, Castiel shook his head. “Anna, you just keep adding more and more furniture,” He mumbled with a roll of his blue eyes. “How does Michael do this?” Michael, her long term boyfriend, was a legendary clean freak. So Castiel can’t help but wonder how they work this out. Anna tends to leave things behind as she moves on to her next endeavor, while Michael will bleach the shower so that it’s bright white for the next user.

When both Anna and Sam were fast asleep, Castiel could feel sleep tugging at him like when he was nine and Anna had tied a string to his tooth and door, slamming it hard enough to make the light above come shattering down.

Castiel lay out on the loveseat with far too many decorative buttons and allowed sleep to take him.

“Deany-boy! Tonight, you and I will paint this town red!” Gabriel announced loudly as he approached the ambulance, clipboard in hand for the routine vehicular check that they had to perform daily if not more. Dean could see a pair of oversized boobs were drawn on the edge of the papers.

“You mean get drunk?” Dean asked with a raised eyebrow. He doesn’t do that anymore.

“Well, I get drunk, and you whisk me off from my poor decisions. My favorite designated driver!” Gabriel chirped. Somehow he always ended up chasing Gabriel down from karaoke and body shots. Dean swore that Gabriel was a seventeen year old with a fake ID. Unfortunately he was a twenty-nine year old with bad tendencies. Although Dean owed Gabriel all too much. Despite loving the party life, he had helped Dean climb out of his dark deep hole that kept claiming him once again.

Dean had spent his teenage years and his early twenties abusing and re-using drugs and alcohol like they were a life force. But then, Sam had thrown Dean out of his life when Dean had turned eighteen. He’d said that to not contact him until he fixed his life and wasn’t using. Dean had stopped using completely at twenty-one, that was five years ago. Since then, he’d gotten a job as an EMT with Gabriel, working with the Lawrence fire and rescue team. He’d gone through free drug and alcohol counseling and had tried out safety recovery as well as Alcoholics Anonymous. When he gets urges, he’ll visit a meeting to set his head straight.

“What’s in it for me this time?” Dean questioned with a smirk. Usually whenever Dean plays babysitter, he gets in on Gabe’s baking skills. Somehow, Gabe could make you top notch brownies and cakes, yet whenever he tried to cook anything more difficult than rice, he nearly burns the whole place down. Some things are better not tested. Whenever the firehouse bake sale comes around, he’s worked ragged but they make enough to keep the house running and help local homeless shelters.

“How about a big ass cookie-brownie baby?” He offered with a devious well knowing smirk. Gabriel knew some of Dean’s weaknesses. Though he only offers birthday and emergency pie. Emergency meaning things like getting dumped, hospital visits, the important emotion stuff that they both didn’t like getting into. So they have pie instead.

Dean’s stomach growled as his mouth salivated with food related desire. Considering he didn’t grab breakfast, the thought was superb. Dean quickly agreed as long as the brownies were done by the time he got to Gabriel’s house to take him out to his party world.

When they had first become friends, Dean could barely handle being within a block of a bar. Now he was able to go through a crowded party and not use at all. He calls that progress. Dean has been one hundred percent clean with no slip ups for four years now, since he was twenty two. He’d struggled a year after becoming clean at twenty one, he’d had one major slip and two minor. Yet he picked himself back up in the end.

“Get me at eight, alright?” Gabriel said, getting a nod in response.

“Sounds great, make sure they’re gooey!” Dean laughed. That meant he had two and a half hours after his shift ends to himself. Lately he’d been going to the store repeatedly, hoping and practically begging he’d find Sammy in some dramatic romantic comedy sense, but so far it was a bust. He decided he would just go home and clean, and check up on the Colonel. The Colonel was a dog that had been rescued by the fire squad, in a apartment burn down. For a few weeks he had been part of the firehouse until Dean finally decided to bring him home. It was one dog that he could stand, let alone be fond of, especially considering he was a big ol’ German Shepherd that loved to burrow himself in Dean’s bed.

Afterwards, they made their way through the vehicle check in silence, leaving only the echoes of the fire fighters from the main living room which was attached to the kitchen. Their shift was quiet, though the squad were on their own high volume scale. No kittens to safe, or senior citizens to help across the street. Dean didn’t mind that, he was glad.

When the next shift started to make their way through the station, Dean started to relax into the couch. The small box television was showing a new teen hearthrob show about aliens on the planet, only their sexy and dangerous.

After being ushered out at shift change, he settled into his sleek, gorgeous, vintage 1967 Chevy Impala that he deemed Baby..

The city lights were already bright as the sky darkened, being a late Fall night. Cars streamed by as men and women returned home from work. The lights were beautiful, his favorite part of his ride home from inner Lawrence towards the University campus where all the better living was for a single bedroom. It helped that he would pray to see Sammy-- though he knew that the kid would probably be off to Stanford or something. He had the brain for it, that’s for sure.

Though Dean knew Sam wasn’t sticking around, not for him, not for Dad, not anybody. He was someone who had no problem cutting connections. Dean can’t say much better, considering he hasn’t see Dad in years. Their relationship was difficult to say the least. Dean would never consider cutting ties with his makeshift family. Sure they were as crazy as it gets, but they were still his family.

Dean’s phone lit up brightly from its spot in the cupholder. The name said Blondie. Otherwise known as Jo.

“You’ve got me,” Dean grunted into the phone as he turned off the main road towards a sketchy area since it was the quickest route.

“Dean! Gabe called me and said you guys are going out. Can I tag along? Mom is driving me absolutely insane!” Jo explained, referring to Ellen Harvelle. The one woman in the world that scared the lights out of Dean.

“Uh-- Yeah, sure. Need me to pick you up?” Knowing Jo had no car, he’d never want her on a random bus to get to a bar. She was on his way home, anyways.

“That would make my life easier, yeah,” Jo admitted with a dignified huff. Dean smirked slightly as he hung up the phone without another word. He twisted his ring slightly as he pulled onto Jo’s street. The street lights were a dull yellow and the concrete were cracked. Sometimes Dean worries about the Harvelle’s living on such a crime populated neighborhood, but ever since Jo broke a guy's shoulder with a baseball bat. Thank god she missed his head.

Dean could see Jo waiting outside with her arms crossed and a I’m-pissed-don’t-touch-me attitude. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. She was good at being a pissed off, dramatic, community college student. Being twenty-two, she still had her teenage wisp about her, especially according to Dean. Jo was the little sister he never had. Though he was glad he didn’t grow up with Jo, he would have been hit a lot more.

Jo dashed up to the passenger seat and got in without a word, giving Dean the look that said “Don’t ask,” so he stayed silent and switched to the radio which started playing “Let it Go” loudly. He’d made a twisted face before he could change it to Classic Rock 101.0 which has frequent segments about educating the younger generation about the wonderful world of the 1970’s. His sour expression melted away when Metallica replaced the light tones of Frozen.

“Really? Do you not appreciate Frozen or something?” Jo snorted with a grin.

“Jo, you’ve made me watch it with you six friggin’ times! I need a sanity break!” He exclaimed, exasperated. The movie hasn’t been out all that long, and to see it constantly drove him slightly insane.

Jo sighed and rolled her eyes, though her smile didn’t fade, it may have even grown. She was one of the few people who appreciated his cocky charming attitude-- she didn’t try to change him, and even if she could, she wouldn’t Because she liked it.

When arriving at Dean’s apartment, Dean dropped his duffel bag onto the recliner as the Colonel casually jogged up to Dean, panting happily. He rubbed his nose into Dean’s hands and Dean scratched his furry neck. “Hey, buddy. Missed you too, want a treat?” Dean asked gruffly, getting into the treat bag to give him two small dog treats.

“I can make mac and cheese if you want,” Jo offered, watching Dean grin wildly as he gave all his attention to the Colonel.

“That’d be great Jo, thanks!” Dean said happily as he put the leash on the Colonel to take him outside for a quick trip to attend to his business.

Jo rifled through the cupboards looking for the blue Kraft box between all the junk food, pots, and pans. After a few minutes of diligent searching, she found Spongebob macaroni behind the blender that he most likely never uses. As she was pouring the noodles into the boiling water, Dean and the Colonel came back into the apartment.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, alright?” Dean said, even though it sounded like a question. He stripped his work-shirt off as he made his way through the hallway to his bedroom. The black ink on his body seemed to glow under the yellow light of the old lightbulb hanging low from the ceiling on a single wire. Two thick blank bands on each sides of his shoulders starting at the shoulder blade to the front of his clavicle. Then the words ‘You’ve got to show them what it means to be alive’ running down his left side. Another was a large feather covering the majority of the inside of his right arm, from his wrist to elbow. Though ink covered more parts of him than just those.

His pants came off as he closed his bedroom door behind him. Dean’s room was relatively clean, probably because he doesn’t spend all too much time in it. Sometimes one night stands, occasionally sleep though he usually only makes it to the couch.

While turning on the shower to the hottest temperature the water heater could manage, he turned on the small radio he kept in his bathroom. The only channels it could reach were top 100 and a pop punk radio, he stuck with the latter. So as he stepped into the shower ‘Be My Escape’ by Relient K started playing. Dean sang along softly to the song with a grin as the water flattened his hair against his forehead. Steam poured out of the shower, making the room foggy, like a silent haunted getaway.

“Self detained and forced to live in the mess I’ve made,”

Dean got out of the shower after thoroughly scrubbing his body with the fruity soap that Jo had left the last time she stayed over, since Dean hasn’t gotten a new bottle of plain and simple soap. The moist air made him dizzy as he stood in front of the mirror, bare to his vulnerable mind. Ink, skin, scars, and a broken heart that he held close and hidden.

“Dean! Food is ready!” He heard Jo call from the small kitchen, hopefully she hasn’t let the Colonel sample the meal again, that fired back at him for two days.

Quickly, Dean wrapped a towel around his waist and exited the bathroom to return to the kitchen where Jo was holding the large pot, serving Mac and Cheese into two bowls on his crappy kitchen table. Jo did a slight double take when Dean sat at the table and began shoveling the food in his mouth.

Jo couldn’t help but notice a tattoo she’d never seen before, a compass wrapped in a ribbon saying ‘Before you ask which way to go, remember where’ve you been,’ The compass glass was cracked and the pointer was damaged. It was typical..Dean.

After eating, the two retired to the couch with the television turned to Angel TV: The Rich Gone Bad, a show dedicated to rich kids ruining their lives. It made Dean feel much better about his life, that’s for sure.

“Dean, you’re still sober, right?” Jo asked quietly, nearly a whisper as she ran her fingers through Dean’s light, soft hair. His head shifted in Jo’s lap as he took a deep, nervous breath -- Which made Jo just as nervous. The answer to the question means everything in their own private world of just two beating hearts.

“Yeah, yeah I am. Been hard but not a need nor bottle.” He admitted freely before sitting up and deciding it was time to get Gabe-- Shutting down the conversation without another word. The car ride was filled with a cold harsh silence until the pulled into Gabriel’s apartment building. They know which apartment is Gabriel’s by the paper rainbow over the window by the door along with the words “Casa Erotica-Gabriel.”

Gabe opened the door quickly, with a big sloppy grin that practically screamed ‘Pre-drinking rules.’ Dean sighed and pulled Gabe out to the car, stumbling and bumbling the whole way. Dean could already tell tonight was going to be a messy kind-of-drunk night.

“You’re so gay, and you definitely like boyssss,” Gabriel sang loudly into the microphone in the second bar they’d visited that night, this one was featuring karaoke night, which makes it Gabriel’s new favorite bar. He pointed straight at Dean with a shitfaced grin, “No you don’t even like Penis!”  The words were loud and flamboyant, just like him.

Gabriel sang until he fell off the stage.

When they arrived at their next bar, Gabriel disappeared into the crowd as Dean and Jo slid into an empty booth across from each other. Dean let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into the vinyl.

“You know, Jo, I think going out with Gabriel is a harder level of babysitting.” He huffed, making Jo snort.

“Attention beautiful ladies, and that lean tan guy in the booth with the hot redheaded chick who should definitely give me her number, tonight I present you with a true work of art. Haaave you met--” Gabe called out to the bar loudly. Dean frowned and got up from the booth, ignoring Jo’s hysterical laughter. He pulled Gabe down off the bar with as much force as he could muster.

“Oh come onnn, Deano, you need a hot piece of ass in your life!” Gabriel whined pathetically, trying to reach for a drink as Dean pulled Gabe out of the bar with Jo following them shortly behind, her laughter filling the entire bar.

“Oh don’t worry Gabe, you’re the only hot piece of ass I’ll ever need.”


	2. Is This a Lesbian Bar or Am I in the Wrong Place?

Dean’s face stuck to his desk by the sticky drool that poured slowly out of his mouth. There were sticky notes surrounding his head with jokes written on this, “I thought this was my bed!”, “So..Comfy..”, they get worse as they go on along with crude drawings. It was expected, living part time in a firehouse of tricksters and fools. (well and one woman who is a pain in Dean’s ass)

“Dean..Dean wake up,” Gabriel said quietly, poking Dean’s cheek with a ruler before smacking it semi hard on his cheek, jerking him awake in a split second.

“Ow, shit, what the hell!” Dean shouted angrily, jumping up with a hand pressed to his already-red cheek.

“Good morning Prince Charming!” Gabriel sang happily, holding the ruler to his chest, “You’re needed in your royal vehicle for routine checks!” Dean scowled darkly, wanting to throw Gabriel off the nearest cliff with as much force as he could muster. Gabe was a smaller guy, he could probably throw him pretty far, Dean thought to himself.

“God, give me a second you asshole.” Dean groaned. He needed coffee before he could ever tolerate Gabe and his bullshit. Sometimes Dean wonders how Gabe even made it through training without killing his instructor. Hell, how is he even alive?!  A question that most definitely needs answers.

Firehouse coffee tastes like dirt and copper. It was certainly an acquired taste. After a few weeks buying your own coffee wasn’t quite worth it. It meant getting up earlier, spending seven bucks on fancy-ass coffee that won’t even last until he gets to the station for a hellishly long shift. The troubles of a Fire station EMT. He’d considered private EMT company’s but always came back to the firehouse.

When Dean got back to their rig, he found Gabe laying in the gurney with a shock blanket covering him. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes when he pulled himself into the vehicle onto the bench.

“You know, I bet one of those firefighters want your candy-ass,” Gabe said sweetly as Dean started to take stock of supplies that they kept organized like a teenage boys bedroom. Thankfully they’ve never had a problem finding something; that would end poorly.

“And I bet that you’d pay them off to like my candy ass,” Dean replies simply and swiftly. Coffee definitely helps when it comes to handling Gabe.

“That’s true,” He admits, taking a candy necklace out of his secret vomit-bag stash that’s filled to the brim with candy he’d gotten on Halloween. It has somehow lasted these past three weeks, now that Thanksgiving is upon them being only tomorrow. They had plans to spend it with the Harvelle’s, and a few strays that Ellen has picked up along the way; Ash, and Charlie.

“Are you still going out with Charlie tonight?” Gabriel asked, chewing contently on the stringed candy. Dean started to clean up the IV packages and alcohol wipes.

“Yeah, we’re going to that one bar club place off Presley Way, Purgatory. Heard of it?” Dean questioned, pulling on a bright blue elastic glove with a snap against his wrist. Gabriel started choking on his laughter. Purgatory was a lesbian bar, but Dean doesn’t have to know that quite yet.

“Ah, nope, never.” Gabe said with a faded hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He can’t wait to get the details from Charlie when she drunk texts him tonight.

The horn blasted above them, “Ambulance 61, unconscious subject at 12405 Emerald Ridge Way.” The voice was of none other than Charlie Bradbury, head of dispatch at Lawrence Fire and Rescue. Her fire red hair and spunky attitude drew Dean in, but the real kicker was her cosplaying-geeky-inside. Since they’ve met, they’ve hung out at least one night a week, more depending on their schedules. Tonight they were going to Charlie’s ‘New favorite bar’

“Time to go, sleeping beauty!” Dean said loudly, smacking Gabe’s leg hard as he slid out of the back of the rig. It was his turn to drive. Something about driving it with all cars on the road stopping for you was exhilarating. Saving a life was even more so. Gabe jumped into the passenger seat, and one he heard the click of a seatbelt, they were off. It he was honest, Dean revved the engine like a seventeen year old in a street race.

The call was typical, a man fainting and gave himself a concussion. Nothing exciting, but in a way that’s relieving.

As the day went on, Dean couldn’t wait to get away from work. So when Charlie comes in, done up and ready for the club, carrying clothes for Dean instead of his navy blue shirt and slacks.

“Tonight is mission impossible. Get Dean Winchester laid,” Charlie smirked, shoving the clothes into Dean’s arms. Tight lowrise jeans, an even tighter white tshirt, with a flannel overshirt.

“What? Am I gonna be a painted whore now?” He inquired as Charlie silently pushed him into the locker room. It was an empty as he struggled into the dark wash jeans and then pulling his uniform shirt off over his head. You can still see the long dark scar that ran along his spine; He’d gotten it in a party accident. Too many pills, too much booze, not enough common sense. Dean had tried to sit down but slid down a sharp broken pole on the way down, ripping open his back. He could barely feel it he’d been so intoxicated. But at that point in his life he didn’t care.

He just wanted to waste away. Let his body rot from the smoke inhaled and the vodka he’d drank. Poison dripping into his body, burning away at him like whipped vodka and clove cigarettes. Not even losing everything stopped him. He was poison.

Leaving home, leaving Sam. He was lost and waiting for some miracle. For far too long, who went from couch to couch of whoever would take him, drink all day, take drugs all night. Overdose came closer and closer until the night Gabriel found him when he’d finally done too much. Laying in the gurney at the hospital with Gabriel-- a stranger at the time -- was the last straw. He went through heavy withdraws, leaning hard on his new found friend. When he got a job as Gabe’s partner, they celebrated by throwing toilet paper all over statues and government buildings.

It was almost as fun as being an addict.

When Dean buttoned up two of the buttons on his shirt and laced up his biker boots, he felt ready to go. He shook a hand through his hair as he exited the locker room, ready for the night that Charlie had prepared.

After standing in the bar for a good thirty minutes, a thought struck Dean.

“Is this a lesbian bar?”

Charlie looked at him as if he were insane, then walked away with a girl named Gilda on her arm to “get to know each other.”

Basically his best friend was leaving him alone in a lesbian bar, getting banged in some VIP room. What a night.

A woman bumped against his shoulder with a martini in hand, bright red hair and hazel eyes. He took a second look before grinning, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Anna, Anna Novak. I’m guessing you thought it was mens night?” She smirked, taking a sip of her drink and slowly eating the olive that was inside.

Dean snorted, “I wish. My friend dressed me up at work then dragged me here so she could get laid.” He sighed and leaned back against the polished wood bar. The edge was wet from condensation so his elbows were slightly wet. “I can’t get laid in a lesbian bar.”

“Sounds like a fun friend,” She laughed, “I’m here because drinks are half priced for hot girls,” Anna grinned, finishing the last sip of her drink with silent dignity. “Least you aren’t here to watch the girls make out…. Or are you?”

Dean shook his head, laughing. “More into guys, myself,” He admitted.“Well Anna, what do you do for a living?”

“It involves scrubs and grumpy patients.” Anna said, rolling her eyes at the thought. “You?”

“Involves grumpy patients and a cool car,” Dean joked, “I’m an EMT. Surprised I haven’t seen you in the circuit. Where are you at?” He asked, sliding into the bar chair as Anna did across from him; away from the dancing, beating music, and dancing women.

“General ER but sometimes I’m a float for the pediatrics department,” She said, motioning the bartender for another drink. “Want one?”

Dean gulped and shook his head, “No, nah, I’m alright.” His fists gripped tight against the pocket of his all too tight jeans in distress. Taking a deep breath, he released his fists to rub one hand against the back of his neck, feeling the sweat trickle down from the heat of the club and the nervousness from the sweetly addictive smell of alcohol.

“So Dean, tell me your story,”

Dean’s childhood was what lead to his adolescence. He felt lost, alone, pressured. When he was old enough to understand, he started smoking weed. Everyone did it, he thought it was normal. But as he went into later teens, he drank, and drank, and drank. Stumbling home at four in the morning, climbing into his and Sam’s bedroom through the window; often falling on his face in the process. At one point, a very long point,  he drank more than John.

The problem was when he added harder drugs. Any pill he can get. Uppers, downers, and anything inbetween. LSD, Shrooms, and even heroin twice. Anything to dull his pain. People would find him passed out with his head in toilets, sex with strangers, he was destroying his life.

On his eighteenth birthday, he binged harder than ever, and went to Sam’s play so drunk that he started shouting, making a scene, and then passed out in the guards arms. That was the day Sam cut Dean out of his life. When he was sober, Dean packed a single bag and never came back to his childhood home. Sometimes he wonders if Sam took over the whole room, grew up, or left it like they’d had it when they were really brothers-- not distant relatives that haven’t talked in eight years.

Eight years is a long times worth of pain, sorrow, and longing for your little brother.

**  
  
**

“The last time I went to your house for a holiday, Lucifer set all of Michael’s underwear on fire,” Sam huffed, stuffing a few days worth of clothes into a duffel bag that read ‘Who says nothings impossible? I’ve been doing nothing for years.” It was more the opposite of Sam considering how much time he’s been spending in the gym lately.

But it was true. Lucifer and Michael were notorious for their intense arguments, screaming, fighting, and as Lucifer prefers-- property destruction. They were brothers-in-law from hell.

“Yes, but without you I may set them on fire!” Cas pleaded, finishing up his packing. It was Thanksgiving morning, if it would really be called morning. It’s only 3:30 and they’ve been up all night working, packing, and playing Call of Duty online to scream at twelve year olds. At one point the guys next door banged on the walls saying to shut the hell up. Now it was time to leave so they’d make it to Castiel’s family home in a timely manner.

“You’re so lucky I’m your best friend, any other guy would say screw it. Hell two years ago Lucifer was smoking pot in the guest bathroom and offered me a bum hit!”

“You said yes.” Castiel deadpanned with a look of ‘Don’t give me that bullshit’

“That’s so not the point.” Sam said dramatically, swinging his bag over his shoulder for emphasis.

“Sam you were so high at dinner you passed out with food in your mouth, not your proudest moment.” Castiel scowled, opening their door, trying to get them to leave on time. On their way out, the sky was dark and stars were still visible.

Sam sat on the hood of the car for a minute, staring straight up at the sky, naming constellations in his head that Dean had taught him before he became another person. Lynx, Canes, Lepus, Taurus. It felt like a wave of guilt and longing was trying to drown him.

Sam had never expected to never see Dean again. He thought at most Dean would be gone a month and come back at least trying to be sober. Back to being his big brother. Sam had only been fourteen. He missed out on his big brother tormenting him, or teaching how to talk to girls, anything. He missed out on it all because his brother became an addict and Sam made him leave. But unlike many addicts, he walked away and never even tried to come back.

Sometimes he wonders where Dean is. Whether he’s clean or not. Whether he’s even alive. He asked himself the latter often. If he was dead, it’d be all Sam’s fault. Tears flowed slowly down Sam’s cheeks as he clutched at the strap of his duffel bag.

“You okay?” Castiel asks as he swings his bag into the back seat. Sam sniffles slightly and wipes under his eyes quickly before Castiel has the chance to see him. He doesn’t have the right to cry about this. He caused it. Why didn’t he make him go to rehab, or try harder, anything but make him leave. His Dad says he hasn’t seen Dean since he was twenty. He’d been in even worse shape according to John. Pale, sickly, dark bags under his eyes, and skinny as hell.

Sam does everything to not think of Dean for too long, because it kills him inside. He’d been fourteen, and angry. But why did he tell him to leave?

Tortured by thoughts, it took ages for Sam to fall asleep on the way to the Novak family home where Anna and her boyfriend Michael, and Lucifer would be, along with his mother Naomi. His last older brother had run away when Castiel had been ten, no one ever speaks of him, like a secret family pack to pretend he never existed. His name was like Voldemort.

They arrive in Pontiac in roughly nine hours, including their mid drive stop for twenty-seven dollars worth of fast food. Thankfully they’re athletic people, or the freshman fifteen would be like a senior seventy.

Castiel parked in front of the family home, Anna and Michael were already there, he could tell by the cheesy bumper sticker that said “Angel in the car.” Michael had put there to be romantic. In the end Castiel found it stupid.

They entered the house as quietly as possible, mostly trying to avoid Castiel’s mother and Lucifer.

“Sammykins! You made it! You’ve gotten tall you Godly hunk of man!” Lucifer sang out from the open kitchen, leaning over the isle with a large glass of wine in hand, bottle next to him; obviously drinking alone.

“Hello, Lucifer,” Sam grunts out, attempting to be somewhat polite.

Lucifer threw back the whole glass of wine frat house style, then grabbed the bottle and walked towards the pair, “Lovely seeing you all, but I’m going to go get drunker than last Christmas in the garage before Mother gets home. You know her, unbearable unless one of you is intoxicated,” He waves the bottle around before opening the door that leads to the cement floored garage where there was one car-- Lucifer’s, a couch, and a TV that most likely was older than Castiel.

Then steps were heard coming down the stairs, “Castiel, Sam! You’re the perfect buffer, just stand in front of me all day and we’ll be okay!” Anna said, sounding slightly panicked.

“Wha-- Why?” Castiel asked, puzzled.

“I’m pregnant!” She whispered aggressively. A dead silent bomb dropped on the room, followed by the opening of the garage door again.

“Mothers here and I need more wine!” Lucifer shouted, waving his empty bottle around when his mother gently pushed past him.  Her grin was tight and lined with bright lipstick and dark eyes. Before she could speak, Lucifer turned on the stereo system and the volume was blasted.

“WE DON’T EVEN HAVE TO TRY, IT’S ALWAYS A GOOD TIME! WHOA OH OH OAHH OH!” Castiel couldn’t tell which was louder, the music along with Lucifers poor singing, or the anger radiating from his mother. Though his mothers face was most definitely redder than Lucifers wine.

“I need to be drunk,” Sam mumbled, following Lucifer away to where he had his secret booze stash. Cas stared down at his own feet in a moment of contemplation, “Yeah, drunk sounds nice.”

By the time Castiel was sufficiently drunk, he didn’t even care when his mother was screaming about Anna’s pre-marriage pregnancy or the fact that Lucifer was throwing Michael’s belongings into the fireplace. (Though the smell was putrade.) Or when Michael threw a knife into Lucifers Megan Fox poster. Even when Anna started screaming that they were acting as children and asking why she was impregnated by a five year old.

“Cassie, when are you gonna bring a hot stud who likes it up the butt, with you?” Lucifer asked, swishing then wine bottle around, the drink turning into a small spiral inside.

“Never, not unless I’m even drunker than now, and that could kill me.” Castiel said sarcastically.

Everyone sat down to dinner eventually, most were drunk while Michael attempted to keep order. Anna had given up and was asking Lucifer incriminating questions. ‘Were you the one who broke the glass wall in high school?’, ‘Were you high the past three Easters?’, ‘Was it you who sold fake drugs to the art teacher in Senior year?’

Though by six, they were told to leave two days early because they were giving their mother a migraine and “Mommy needs some alone time, thanks for coming.” While everyone was still drunk, Anna was the wonderful, pregnant, designated driver. Teenage years all over again..minus the baby. Castiel could remember sneaking out with Anna and Lucifer on Friday nights, since Lucifer had only been a  year and a half older while Anna was oldest by three years. They were the best high school memories Castiel had. Bar hopping, Graffiti, street races, everything they say high schools all about.

While passing state lines back into Kansas, Castiel spoke up, fighting his drunken haze to sound somewhat lucid. “How far along are you, Anna?”

“Six weeks… The doctor said the babies face is developing..Cas I’m going to be a Mommy to a small human beautiful being..” Tears pricked at his older sisters eyes.

“How’d you find out?” His voice was shy, quiet, but questioning.

“I took a test this morning, and then went to a walk in clinic when it said positive. I’ve drank, oh god, what about the baby!” She was panicking, so Castiel reached up from the back seat and started rubbing her shoulders, quietly singing to the song playing over the radio: ‘Show Me What I’m Looking For.’

When they pulled up in front of their dorm building, Cas squeezed her shoulder lightly before pulling his sleepy drunken body out of the crowded car. Anna rolled down her window so that Cas could lean down to say goodbye.

“You’ll be an amazing mother, Anna. You know that, right?” He whispered lightly, carefully, not wanting to make her even more worked up.

“Thanks, Cassie. I miss you, goofball. Come by more often, okay? If you’re nice I won’t name him after you,” She joked, poking fun at his name. He just takes solemn that it isn’t Lucifer; hell, that he isn't Lucifer. Castiel thinks Lucifer takes too much pride in such a name. He also thinks his Mother is nuts to name her kid the devil.

“That would be nice, something normal maybe. Change it up,” He laughed, before growing quiet, letting the car grow quiet. Lucifer’s light snores were the only sound heard as Castiel stared at Anna.

“You’re going to be okay,”

She looked at Castiel, then to the back seat where Michael and Lucifer slept and said, “I know.”

**  
  
**

Thanksgiving is one of the hardest days of the year for Dean. For a few years he’d spent it alone, often drunk. Then he started going to the Harvelle’s. But nothing is like John burning the turkey and Sam pretending it’s delicious. Wrestling on the living room floor until John shouts at them to knock it off.

Now it was Jo and Gabriel he would goof off with, while Ellen would shout at them to grow up and pick up a turkey baster. Ash would refuse refuse to stop hacking government sites while Charlie encouraged him while she read her fanfiction of the week.

So tonight, Dean sits outside the house on the porch steps, cold air nipping at his uncovered skin. He dressed for light weather, jeans and a plaid button up, his usual outfit of choice. A poor choice for the weather report, though. Dean could see his breath in the dark air, the brightest light coming from the porch light. Reaching into his shirt pocket he takes out a cigarette and lighter, bringing a shimmer of light to the air for only a moment, followed by a thin stream of smoke.

Dean doesn’t smoke often, anymore. More so in stressful times, like now.

The smoke filled his lungs like a deadly poison, enveloping him in warmth and familiarity. It was the only thing he couldn’t give up one hundred percent, and Ellen gets on him whenever she can smell it on him; like she will in ten minutes.

The door opened behind him, he didn’t bother to look back, or put out his cigarette. The scuff of heels against the wood told him who it was: Jo. Ellen finds them useless and he’s seventy percent sure Gabriel wouldn’t be wearing heels on Thanksgiving. Maybe April fools day, or Easter.

His guess was confirmed when he felt the tickle of her long blonde hair as she sat down next to him. It was hanging down which wasn’t very common, and she was wearing a long purple dress that tied around her neck, and a cardigan over that. In her hand were two wine glasses, one filled with wine while the other most definitely had grape juice.

“Well, you smell.” Was the first thing she said to him. Followed by, “Make sure you spray some cologne or something or Mom will hate you for it.” It was true, and honest, he gave her that.

“Will you smuggle me some?” He asked with a grin, taking a deep breath of smoke. Dean offered her a drag, she sighed and agreed.

“I’ll just blame you,” He shrugged and was silently okay with that. At least he wasn’t the only one Ellen would tear apart for smoking. She rarely did it, as far as he knows she only does it with him. Dean wouldn’t call himself a good influence, not even a sub par one. At least he hasn’t steered her to insanity and poor public behavior. He wishes he could have pertained to such choices.

“Homesick?” She asked quietly, handing the cigarette back to Dean.

“Definitely. I’m thankful I have you guys, though. I don’t know what I’d do,” He confessed, rolling his shoulders, making them pop, relieving the built up pressure. He did the same with his neck shortly after. It was a nervous habit of his.

“Crash and burn,” Jo answered, her voice was silly and sarcastic, but a part of Dean knew it was far too true for it to be healthy. Weren’t people supposed to learn to be independent and not need others to be happy? He was sure he’d heard that at one point as a teenager. Though as a teenager he was so far in that he had one foot out of his family at all times if it meant more drugs, more booze, more escape.

I started off alone, and I'll end it alone.

The door behind them swung open, blowing warm, food filled air at their backs. “God dammit, what have I told you about smoking at my house!” Ellen complained loudly, taking the nearly finished cigarette out of Dean’s hands. She stepped on it firmly, killing it swiftly.

“Come inside, you idjits. Food’s ready.”

**  
  
**

When Dean left that night, Gabriel was asleep on the swinging seat outside, Jo had put eyelashes on his headlights (which were torn off immediately.) Charlie and Ash were fighting about how to properly steal money electronically from millionaires, and Ellen threw all his smokes in with the dishes in the washer. Overall, he’d had a nice night. No, a really great night. The only thing that really bothered him was the homesickness.

As he was driving home, he considered visiting his father-- which was ruled out instantly. The second was to call Charlie, interrupting her hacking spree with Ash and ask for the biggest favor he’d ever asked for. Her name in his phone is “Hacker Queen” for a reason.

The phone rang four times before she answered, “I was wondering when I’d hear from you,” She said ominously.

“What do you mean?” He asked nervously, his voice trepid and revealing. Like standing out in your front lawn naked in the middle of the afternoon. But also like that-- humiliating. Dean may be overthinking himself, but that crack in his voice was as if he’d broken down crying, begging her for help. Charlie was a best friend of his, but that still wasn’t acceptable to him.

“This is a little tacky, I mean I knew you’d break down one day, but Thanksgiving? Come on, man. I think the perfect day would be after Christmas, then you’d have him and you wouldn’t have to buy him a gift but then like a month later he buys you a birthday gift. But maybe that’s because I’m poor--”

“Charlie!” Dean huffed into the phone, his eye roll was practically audible, and the head drop most definitely was.

“Alright, alright. He lives in the dorms at Kansas University, In the Purgatory building. Like the bar,” Charlie bursted out laughing, making even the tension filled Dean smile.

“Okay, sorry. He’s room three-nineteen. He’s taller than you, so look for some moose kid with shaggy hair and puppy dog eyes, alright Dean? You’ve got this, don’t pussy out or I’ll never forgive you,” Charlie states before hanging up on Dean.

It was only six minutes away from his apartment building, that was equally wonderful and terrifying. They could have seen each other before, most likely even have. Sam had been so close all this time, Dean couldn’t believe it at all. The thought was terrifying, what if Sam had seen him and thought the worst of him? Or that he’d known it was Dean and purposefully ignored him? It all sounded bad and got worse the closer he got to the dorm room.

By the time he was knocking, he felt his heart in his throat. When no one answered, he thought he may have choked and died on said heart. He slid down to the ground and sat there quietly for what seemed like hours.

“Hey.. Are you looking for someone? You’re kind of leaning against our door,” Someone said ahead of Dean, and when he looked up he was faced with two guys. One was a dark-sex-haired blue-eyed model, and the other was a six foot four moose with shaggy hair. Both were half drunk, half hungover.

“Sam Winchester, right?” Dean squawked, his voice cracked up an octave as he wiped his eyes, praying that he wasn’t dreaming. Yeah, praying.

Sam’s eyes practically fell right out of his head, right then. Sure he was still piss poor drunk, but he knew that voice, albeit deeper and rougher. It’d haunted his dreams since he was fourteen years old.

Dean stood up quickly, scrambling as Sam stood quietly. He looked shocked, and like he may vomit.

“I’m D--”

“I know who you are,” Sam interrupted quietly, making Dean’s mouth snap shut quicker than his car full speed.

The guy next to Sam looked bewildered, still hot, but bewildered. “Cas, this is my brother, Dean.” When Dean heard the word ‘brother’ he was sure that his heart stopped beating. When Sam shot forward at him, wrapping Dean in his arms, he felt like he was finally home.

 


	3. Man. Sam I can't get out of this bush?

Inside the two mens dorm room, Castiel promptly went to sleep, leaving the two brothers their privacy. Just because Sam suddenly felt sober as ever, Cas didn’t aswell. Thankfully he isn't one to snore. Dean sat in Sam’s desk chair while Sam sat on the edge of his bed, both of them were sitting quietly, unsure of what to say.

“Where did you go after you left?” Sam asked quietly.

“I don’t remember much before twenty-two, honestly. I stuck around here, usually. Just in case you ever really needed me.” He answered, rubbing his neck with one hand as he stared at the shag carpet to avoid meeting Sam’s gaze.

“What happened at twenty-two?”

“Christ, everything happened, Sam. I was one hundred percent sober at that point, aside cigarettes, Ellen likes to point that out. My life started getting good again,” Dean smiled, actually proud of himself for the first time in years. His past was finally off his shoulder, no longer staring him down, waiting for him to fuck it all up again.

“So.. You’re one hundred percent sober..?” Sam asked carefully, looking around the room, anywhere besides Dean’s gaze.

“Yeah, four years sober aside cigarettes, but Ellen threw my pack in the dishwasher so I won't see those for a while.” Dean chuckled, looking around the dorm room; particularly Sam’s side. There were posters of bands Dean has never heard of, drawings of Sam obviously by someone else, and books. Lots of books. Nerd heaven.

“Who’s Ellen?”

“Oh, um, she’s like a Mom to me. You’d love her.” He said, as if he were walking on glass and landmines all at once. In a way, he was. One wrong move and he’d lose Sam forever. He stared at Sam, his jaw was clenched and hands were squeezed shut tightly.

“That’s good, Dean. I.. I’ve missed you. Are you willing to work this out or was this just a mistake?” He asked, finally looking Dean right in the eye. It was like looking in his soul, begging and pleading. Still that fourteen year old that was desperate for his big brother to come home.

“I’ve been ready for years,” Dean said, smiling brightly, ignoring the tears that were threatening to pour down his face. Sam let out a sigh of relief, anxiety melted away like the wax of a candle.

“So what are you studying?” Dean asked politely, gesturing to the dorm room.

“I’m in my last year of undergraduate, Pre-Law. I’ve been accepted to a few Law schools, even Stanford. I haven’t decided for sure, yet.” He explained, starting to relax into his seated position, feeling at ease.

“Holy shit,” Dean breathed. He was so proud, he couldn’t believe it. No-- He could. Sam was the smartest kid around when Dean knew him, reading at a college level, acing all his classes.

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either.” Sam said, shaking his head. His hair flopped around like a dog drying itself off. Dean suppressed a chuckle by putting a hand over his mouth. It made Sam give him an odd look, but he didn’t care at that time.

“What kind of Law?” Dean asked, tracing his fingers on the wooden desk that was attached to the wall. Most likely the university didn’t want their poor desks stolen. But in the far corner there were two initials carved into in; just like in the impala: S.W. D.W. He smiled brightly, letting his fingers feel the letters like they were another life force.

“Family Law, probably non-profit. I have to keep up the family business. Saving people, hunting things, the family business. I thought that Criminal law was my path but I ended up here.” He said, laughing quietly to himself.

Dean never realized that he’d also carried on the business, like he’d always been meant for his job.

“Damn family business.” Dean chuckled. “Have you seen Dad recently, anyway?”

“A little while ago, he’s not so much as Dad as he is coma patient.” He shrugged.

“Too bad.” Dean said quietly. “I should probably go, it’s really late..” Dean said regretfully, wanting to stay here forever, but it’s three am and he has a shift that starts at six am.

“No! Stay here, please.” Sam said, is puppy dog eyes has improved tremendously. Dean wasn’t sure if he was impressed or that he was realizing he was damned for life when it comes to Sam Winchester.

“Sam it’s alr--”

“Please, Dean?” Sam asked, “You can have the bed, and I’ll get you breakfast and--”

“Okay, alright Sam, but I’ll sleep on the floor. Like hell I’d let you sleep on the ground.” He said, smiling at Sam brightly. Dean felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He rose from his chair and settled into the ground while Sam turned off the lights and got into his bed.

[From:Gabe] at 03:12

Charlie said you finally are finding sammy-boy. hows it going??

[From:Gabe] at 03:16

ANSWER ME HEATHEN

[To:Gabe] at 03:18

hes letting me in his life. he wants me in his life. sure he was drunk but GABE IT WORKED

“Who are you texting?” Sam asked with a raised eyebrow, barely at all.

“Just my stupid partner,’ Dean said simply. Sam shrugged and rolled over. Soon snores were coming from him that were like thunder. Just like he used to.

[From:Gabe] at 03:22

holy christ all mighty.

[From:Gabe] at 03:23

dont forget your shift though, i’d kill you. subs are stupid and dont get my jokes

[To:Gabe] at 03:25

I wont, alarm on my phone is set. let me sleep or ill be late.

**  
  
**

Dean never got a reply back, so he rolled over and let sleep take him.

When his alarm was beeping, he woke with a start. Dean forgot where he was for half a second. After a moment he remembered he was on the floor of Sam’s dorm. He thought that was a dream, a trick of his mind. Dean pinched his shoulder, yet the world around him stayed exactly where it was.

Five-thirty am, time to sort of get ready. He rifled through Sam’s drawers to find clothes that may fit. Considering the guys a six-four monster with muscles of a God. He quickly got dressed in the corner of the room, the pants wanted to fall down but his belt kept them up. Thankfully the t-shirt fit fine. Dean searched for a sticky note and pen to write a quick note to Sam.

‘Had to go to work, if you want to find me I’m at the corner of 624th and Willowsbend. from Dean”

**  
  
**

Dean held his dirty clothes under his arm and left the dorm quietly, hoping that that Sam will come.

**  
  
**

“He left.” Sam said quietly to himself. He stood in the middle of the dorm. Sam felt empty, and betrayed. He truly thought Dean wanted to change everything. But he didn’t, he lied and left.

It was eleven in the morning, snowing outside. Sam was alone in the dorm, Castiel had went to Anna’s home earlier this morning. Sam felt more alone than he ever had before. It was as if he’d been given hope, then it was stolen away before he could truly enjoy it’s happiness it brought him.

Sam stumbled slowly around his room before dropping onto his desk chair. A bright pink sticky note was stuck on the corner of the desk with chickenscratch handwriting.

‘From Dean,” Was the first part he saw. It filled him with utter relief. “Jerk.”

Dean sat at the table near the fire engines with four other guys. They were playing poker with popcorn (Chief banned money since last time it ended up being three thousand dollars in the pot.) His cards were piss-poor but he tended to bluff his ass off.

Someone started playing “Boss Ass Bitch” over the intercom. “Pretty boy incoming!” They yelled into the mic. It was definitely Gabe, because who else? It was followed by “I don’t mean Dean.” Which made Dean sigh and drop his head down in defeat. The amount of times he was referred to as pretty boy was saddening. Ken doll was worse, though.

Footsteps were heard on the other side of the engine before his voice, “Is there a Dean Winchester here?” They shouted out. Everyone stared at Dean, who started smiling like crazy. He threw his shitty cards on the table and stood, scooting his chair back with a small screech.

“Over here!” He yelled jogging over to Sam. Dean was now in his uniform, a light blue button up shirt and black slacks. Thankfully the shirt wasn’t long sleeve, or else the summers would have killed him by now. His shirt was unbuttoned revealing a grey T-shirt that said Lawrence EMT on the back with the firehouse emblem at the left breast area.

Sam looked Dean over once with a raised eyebrow, “Fireman?”

Dean snorted, “Hell no. EMT, thank you. Firemen aren’t nearly as cool as me.” That comment earned the firemen behind him to start throwing popcorn at his head followed by gradeschool mocking of EMT’s, particularly the dynamic duo Dean and Gabe.

“Holy shit, seriously?” Sam asked, eyes wide with doubt.

“Thanks for the support, Sam.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “I managed to get my training and everything, thanks to Gabe weirdly. He pulled my head out of my ass more than once.” Dean looked at his feet for a moment before returning Sam’s gaze.

“I’m proud of you,” Sam said with a grin.

Dean turned around and looked to the people spying on them.

“Is he your new boyfriend?” Benny called out, which made everyone but Dean and Sam laugh.

“Please, I could do much better. Guy’s, this is my little brother, Sam.” Dean said, putting an arm around Sam’s shoulders, despite the slight height difference. Everyone was quiet, they knew Dean’s family problems, this could either end with Dean ruined, or happy again.

“This is Sam? I thought he’d be...smaller.” Benny said with a suggestive whistle.

“Oh shut up, God.” Dean said dramatically, rolling his eyes despite the grin on his face. You could see it in his eyes: he’s happy. To Dean, this whole potentially heart breaking mess, was worth it.  “Come on, Sam. I’ll show you around,” Dean said with a grin, starting to walk towards the living quarters.

“You're friends with those guys?” Sam asked casually as they wove their way around the cots and other pieces of furniture. Dean tripped slightly over the cord that Gabe had laid out from the bathroom all the way up to his cot on the far side of the room, to keep his Avengers alarm clock plugged in without unplugging his light or phone charger. Dean swore it would one day kill him since it wrapped around his cot; leaving him to trip on it every sleepy morning or night he spends at the firehouse. Some days, Dean swears Gabe did it on purpose, because he would start laughing whenever Dean would fall on top of sleeping coworkers.

“Watch your step, Cupcake.” Someone chucked from behind him as he got his footing back. Dean scowled while he gathered himself.The nickname refused to be shook. When he first started here, they “hazed” him. They had him eat a dozen cupcakes as fast as possible. He ended up puking soon after but he earned some respect, weirdly. Sam looked at him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, I am, for some ungodly reason. I think it’s peer pressure.” Dean joked, chuckling. He lead Sam back towards the common room where most of the day crew were currently in. Most of the crew stopped what they were doing to look over to the two of the; particularly Sam.

The common room was rather large, a corner couch was off to the side with a tv set and coffee table. To the other side of the room was a gigantic table you see in the movies with mismatching chairs. Connecting to this room was the kitchen which was filled with lots of fresh food but under the cabinets for pots and pans there was a stash of chips and candies, hidden from the night crew.

The clatter and bangs from the kitchen were loud, but not loud enough to take the attention away from Dean and Sam. Dean felt hot and clammy, so he just started walking into the room, plopping on the couch. Trying to be casual, he let out a long breath of air and laid his arm on the back of the couch.

Sam looked around the room feeling awkward. “Hey, kid. Got a job or what?”  Gabe asked from the back of the kitchen, a pan and wooden spoon in his hands. He looked slightly threatening, but Dean chucked it up to Gabe’s bizarre body language. Sometimes he’d look enraged while annoyed, and happy when exhausted.

Gabe was simply one of those people who protected whom they loved.

“I work at a twenty-four hour coffee shop right now, nothing too big.” Sam said with a shrug, not too interested in the subject of his job. It was a relatively new job, not much longer than a few weeks. He often worked the nine PM to five AM with Ruby whenever he could fit it into his schedule because of the higher pay, and did the swing shift most days of the week with Jess. She was the beautiful, curly haired, blonde ray of sunshine that he couldn’t help but stare at. So far they were good friends, but nothing more.

“Which one? We’re masters of twenty four hour shops. Did you know that donut place, Angel food is twenty four hour? Sometimes at three am on forty eight hour shifts, it’s great to go and get a few dozen donuts. They’re gone before morning shift arrives.” Dean supplied, shrugging.

“You go there? They’re amazing.” Sam answered, practically salivating. “I work at Crowley’s Corner.” He finished, straightening up to stop him looking like a hungry dog.

“Oh yeah, we had a heart attack there a few months ago, personally I think the owner caused it with his creepy stare.” Gabe shuddered, it felt like he was shaking away disease and cold disgust. The look on Sam’s face was sheer understanding, Crowley, the owner had a tendency to be rather.. intimidating. When he’d interviewed, Sam swore he’d seen the King of Hell himself. When he’d actually started working there, well… He knew he hadn’t been exaggerating in the slightest.

“He’s a self absorbed hellraiser, that’s for sure.” Sam inputed. There was a tug at the corner of Gabe’s mouth, giving shape to his evil trickster grin.

“Ambulance 41 and truck 81, fire at Lawrence Community Center and Outreach..”

Everyone runs into motion, Dean shouting over his shoulder, “Come to dinner tonight, I’ll text you an address!” Sam nods and before he knows it, the station is empty. Leaving him all alone once again.

Dean sat in a recliner across from Bobby Singer, the father he never had. In his apartments kitchen, Ellen was cooking her famous roasted chicken and mash potatoes with green beans. Charlie was finagling with his neighbors wifi so that she and Ash could set up a live video game match for themselves, Jo, and Dean. Garth was busy helping Ellen with dinner as always, he was a gentlemen for sure. His wife Bess was away for a work conference in Austin.

There was a firm knock on his door just as Charlie shouted “Hazzah!” which had to mean they cracked Mr. Westerbours’ wifi.

“Somebody get the damn door!” Ellen shouted from the kitchen, everyone stared at Dean expectedly as if to say ‘it’s your house, dumbass.’

Dean yanked open the door to Sam holding a grape juice bottle, he was smiling shyly as Dean let him inside. “It’s customary to bring wine to dinner, but I figured wine would be better.” He said, looking down at the floor seeming uncomfortable.

“Don’t pussyfoot, boy. He’s wearing his big boy panties.” Bobby barked from his seat in front of the tv with a half empty bottle of beer, motioning to others in the room. Charlie was nursing a glass of vodka soda, Jo was on her third glass of whiskey, while Ash was drinking straight from a bottle of rum. Thankfully Garth wasn’t drinking, considering how much of a lightweight he was.

Gabe ran into the apartment behind Sam yelling, “Who wants to play chicken!?” There was an audible sigh from Dean as he shut the door behind the two of them.

“I do!” Ash shouted, standing up so quickly that his chair fell behind him.

“No, dammit, no chicken!” Ellen yelled from the kitchen, followed by a crash of plates. Dean sighed yet again, it’s the effect his family has on him.

“What? I thought we were having chicken? I was promised chicken!” Charlie said, mouth agape in horror.

“I hate all of you.” Dean said simply, covering his eyes with his hand, one hundred percent done with everyone, yet again that was a state of being he lived in most days of his life now. Strangely enough it was a kind of life he’d dream about, a family he could be himself with, a job he loved, and a future ahead of him.

Dean took the grape juice from Sam with a smile, “Thanks, man. Glad you made it.” He said lightly. “There’s drinks in the kitchen, don’t touch the food or she’ll smack your hand with a spoon. Avoid knocking around the tech set up or else they may lose their stolen wifi. Lastly, don’t hit on Jo or I’ll hurt you.” He explained quickly as he put the juice away in the fridge. People in the room kept glancing at Sam as if he were an animal in a cage.

“Hey, do you want a beer or?” Dean asked, holding the fridge door open, letting the cold air out along with the dull yellow light of the lightbulbs in the ages old fridge. He had gotten it at a used appliances store off main street.

“Uh, yeah sure.” He answered carefully as if touching the beer bottle would send Dean on a crazy drinking rampage right off the sober wagon. There was a little part of Dean that was a disappointed that Sam had that little faith in him. Though Dean did crush Sam’s hopes of a sober brother on countless occasions as a teenager.

“Dude, relax. I’m not going to go rabid around booze. They bring the booze, and leave with the booze. It never stays here. My face is up at all the liquor stores so they won’t sell to me, hell most places to get booze know that I sobered up. Lawrence aint a big place, Sammy.” Dean said, slightly defensive.

“It’s big enough to hide from your family for eight years.” Sam looked down, hiding his face in embarrassment. Dean could see Ellen’s expression go from accepting motherly figure to dangerous distrusting mamma bear protecting her cubs. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room, Dean could hear his own heartbeat pulsing deafeningly loud, he was afraid it might beat right out of his chest.

“It’s just that most addict relapse and I know Dean--”

“No, you don’t know him. You haven’t seen him in nearly a decade! He’s grown up, dammit. You knew a different man than this one right here. Dean does good things for this world, he saves lives and is a man I’m proud to have as family!” Ellen shouted, standing up angrily, plates and utensils clanging as she marches down the hall. There’s a slam of a door, leaving the rest of them in silence.

Bobby cleared his throat, “She is right you know.” Was all he said before he stood to hopefully calm down Ellen, who was cooling down in Dean’s bedroom. Blow ups at family dinners weren’t exactly common. The closest they got were when they were playing video games when the wifi cut out. It’s a family of geeks and nerds.

“We know different Dean Winchesters, Sam. I suggest you get to know this one before you start to judge him.” Charlie said quietly. Dean was pushing his food around on his plate with his fork, extremely uncomfortable. He took two deep breaths before standing up to grab his jacket to go out on the patio away from everyone.

The cold air outside was a needed distraction from the mess going on inside. Dean fished inside his pocket for his lighter and cigarette. The poison filled him like a dark cloud, calming his anxious nerves.

The door opens behind him, he can feel the warm air rush out on the back of his neck. “What do you want?” He snaps bitterly. The Colonel nudges at Dean’s side softly, panting, his breath foggy in the air.

“Jo said if I don’t come out and talk to you she’d use me for target practice, I’m not sure if she was kidding.” Sam said while shutting the door behind him. He settled down on the patio next to Dean, nose wrinkled at the smell of the smoke.

“Oh believe me, she’s not. I lost the tip of my ear last summer, that was awful.” Dean said, shrugging. His hand went straight to his ear, feeling the scar tissue where the curve of his ear used to be. He’d had Ash give him Winchester-stitches, pouring vodka over his ear as a sterilization and burning one of Charlie’s sewing needles that she used for making cosplay. Ellen had been beyond pissed the they were doing this in her bar, saying it was unsterile and that she was tired of Jo throwing knives in the bar.

“I didn’t mean--”

“Sammy, do I look like a junkie to you? I mean really, I have a full time job, a home, and I maintain healthy relationships. I’m not going to throw that away for something stupid. Alright? I’m a better person that that, you just don’t know me anymore. You knew me as a junkie alcoholic. But now I’m Mr. God Damn Respectable!” Dean said, his words coming out stressed and desperate. Dean felt more vulnerable than he had in the longest time.

“I’m sorry.” Is all Sam said.

Dean nodded, “Yeah, I know.”

After finishing his cigarette, he flicked the bud to the ground, took a deep breath and returned to the family dinner. It may have been strained but they all were determined to make it work. Because Sam was still family, though like a distant relative that you only see every few Christmases, but still family.

Repairing a broken relationship was harder than anyone expected, but it got easier as the days passed by. Christmas passed by without a hitch, with New Years nearing dangerously close. The brothers had started having dinner together every few days at The Birdhouse diner near Dean’s work. Today, dinner’ was at ten o'clock at night because he had covered a shift for Andy, thankfully Sam was flexible.

Dean mixed creamer into his mediocre coffee, after all they didn’t come here for the coffee. The taste was bitter but the caffeine wasn't unwelcome. It feels like he’s been awake for day, waiting for a break felt like an eternity.

When Sam slid into the booth across from Dean, he pulled his phone out and put it on the table. Sam took a deep breath and shook out his wet hair like a dog. The rain had been pounding the pavement for the past two days, leaving them with puddles up to your ankles and short power outages.

“Jesus, what are you, a dog? You’re as bad as the Colonel!” Dean said, scrunching up his nose in distaste. He got enough dirty water sprayed all over him daily with the Colonel with all this rain. It made their runs much less desirable, that’s for sure.

“Since when do you even like dogs, I remember you calling Bones a fleabag from hell and he was only there for a weekend!” Sam said, rolling his eyes dramatically as his patented bitch face spread across his face.

“Yeah maybe because you found that dog dumpster diving, Colonel likes to go on runs and keeps me company alright? Sue me.” Dean huffs, his signature pout following.  Sam laughs deeply, the kind that rumbles deep inside you.

Sam’s thoughts were basically being shouted across the room, ‘Another way you’ve changed.’ Which made Dean’s heart run bitter. So Dean shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to look as small as possible. Maybe if he looked as guilty as he felt, Sam would give him a break.

Over the past few weeks they’d gone through the process of getting to know each other once more. It was difficult, knowing each other up to a point and then complete blank as if the other had just disappeared.

Dean learned that Sam plays golf, has the musical taste of an eighty-five year old, is at the top of his class, and has very recently started to date his coworker Jessica Moore.

On the other hand, Sam learned that Dean had strong familial ties that he hadn’t had before, learned to shoot a handgun, and was gay. That was a curveball that Sam would have never seen coming.

“How was your date?” Dean asked while taking a sip of his cooling coffee. The colder it got, the more bitter it tasted, so he preferred to drink it as fast as he could. Personally, Dean had no idea how Sam could drink it once it hit lukewarm. Maybe it was a college-thing.

“Uh, it was good. We’re official, so that’s great.” Sam said casually but Dean could see that   
Sam could be standing on the table shouting out his love confession to the world. He wasn’t exactly hard to read, never had been. There are some things you never forget.

“Congratulations Sammy!” Dean said happily, clapping a hand on Sam’s shoulder, making him laugh fondly.

“Oh, Jess wanted to know if you wanted to be set up w--”

“God no. I don’t do blind dates, especially if they’re set up by my little brothers girlfriend. I can get a date if I want!” He huffed annoyedly. Sam rolled his eyes with his hands up as if to say ‘Alright, you do that.’

Sam glanced down at his watch before standing up hurriedly, “I’m late for work! Call me later, I’ll make it up to you!” Sam said fastly, in a nervous panic. He’s out of the diner before Dean can say ‘Okay,’

After a few minutes and another cup of coffee, there’s a vibrating sound against their table. He looks for a second before seeing a forgotten cell phone that was definitely Sam’s.

Dean reaches across the table and flips open the phone. “Sam’s phone, Dean speaking.” He could hear loud music and dozens of even louder voices.

“Sam? It’s Cas. I seem to be stuck in a bush and require assistance.”

Dean hummed for a moment considering his options before saying, “What’s the address?”

**  
  
**

When Dean got to the Frat-house, things were in full swing. Things being tossed from windows, keg stands, drunk people in swimsuits which confused Dean since there was no pool. Finding the bush was simple since it was the only one with long muscular legs sticking out at odd angles.

Dean reached inside and pulled a shirtless Cas to a standing position with one of his arms around Dean’s shoulders. Cas was like dead weight, thankfully he wasn’t puking on Dean’s shoes because these were his nice work shoes compared to his older ones that are singed from one of Gabriel’s hijinx.

“Mm, thanks man.” Cas slurred, turning his face into Dean’s body. Dean tried to suppress a small smile as he lugged Cas’ practically dead body out to the impala, silently praying that the guy doesn’t puke in his baby, because that’s a stench that never comes out of vintage leather.

“No problem, man. Friend of Sam’s is a friend of me.” Dean said casually as he helped Cas into the passenger seat, buckling him in carefully, making sure it’s not too tight.

“Sam speaks of you fondly, it’s sometimes hard t’a believe that such a good person could exist.” Cas mumbles, hiccuping. “Sorry, I wasn’t suppose’ ta’ tell you that, but at least I didn’t say you were aesthetically pleasin’.” Cas shrugged making Dean blush wildly. No one has ever said something like that to him. Maybe a ‘You’re hot’ or ‘You’re sexy lets bang in the back closet of the bar.’

“Well thanks, man.” Dean said, restraining himself from panicky-word-vomit.

“Jess’e’cka keeps sayin’ she wants to set me up with someb’u’dy but I gos’ to admit I’ve got a stupid crush on ya’ and all I know ‘bout you is from other people. Jess wou’ call it gossip.” Dean’s face grows hot and his stifled smile is shining bright. He barely knows anything about this guy but it gave him warm fuzzy feeling deep in his chest where he didn’t even know could be felt.

“Do you eve’n know anyth’in about me?” Cas mumbled, staring out the window to the dark empty streets on the way to the Purgatory dorm rooms on the other side of campus. Dean shrugged as he turned up the radio that was playing the song ‘Heroes (Aren’t meant to survive)’

“Does it matter? Everyone is a stranger at first.” He replied.

“Now, as we stand three feet ‘part ‘nd stare at each other, I feel the full distance that comes wit’ spending so much time ‘part, a moment filled wit’ the electricity of’a first meetin’ and the uncertainty of strangers.” Castiel recited without ever glancing at Dean.

“You’re a different one, Cas.”

“That bad?” He asked, finally looking back at Dean who was smiling fondly.

“No,” He said, “Not at all.”

**  
  
**

“What made you change your mind?” Jess asked the next morning over the phone, she was gleeful that Dean would finally let her set him up on a date with ‘The sweetest, smartest man she knows-- cue Sam being insulted like a twelve year old.’

“I helped a guy out of a bush.” Was his answer. Jess knew better than to press her luck, so she quickly hung up to go convince the ‘mystery man’ that Dean was the best date in Kansas state. But that’ll take a while.

 


End file.
